


come a little closer

by kiranxrys



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anastasia Komananov & Honey Bare, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Making Out, Prompt: Holodeck/holoprogram, The Unintended Consequences Of Julian's LARPing Obsession, essentially, kiss the girl get the key, no Jadzia/Worf in this universe i guess?, poor Kira and her comphet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranxrys/pseuds/kiranxrys
Summary: When Julian doesn't turn up to the latest secret agent group holosuite session, Kira resigns herself to the punishment of taking his place. If only she remembered to take into account Jadzia's ability to make everything…interesting.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	come a little closer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020 event.
> 
> This is pretty silly but it was an idea nagging at me for a while! Fic title from Closer by Tegan and Sara because that's a wlw anthem and _the_ kiradax song for me. Set at some point during S4, post Our Man Bashir and pre-Crossfire.

“I don’t know why I showed up to this,” she mutters, perched on the edge of the sofa with her ankles crossed, trying and failing to be comfortable. In this outfit, it would be just about impossible. Kira doesn’t _detest_ the heels – they’re not nearly as practical as the boots she wears on duty, but she _can_ walk in them, which is something. The dress is another matter. Julian promised it was both era-appropriate and very stylish, and she’s not going to argue with him on that. But for someone who’s supposed to be a secret agent with a licence to kill, it doesn’t make any sense at all. The slip dress, sewn from a silky dark material, is thin and exposes half her back and a v-line down the front – pointlessly baring all the best places for her to be stabbed or shot, in Kira’s opinion.

“You came because it’s going to be fun,” Jadzia replies. She lounges at the opposite end of the sofa, feet up on the coffee table. _Her_ costume is more reasonable. Her heels are lower and she wears a simple pale silk shirt tucked into fitted pants, hair kept back in a neat ponytail. The glasses, Kira doesn’t really understand. It’s not like Jadzia needs them. It’s something to do with her character and stereotypes that don’t make sense to a Bajoran who still hasn’t got around to watching a _James Bond_ film. Whatever those actually are. Earth films are yet another thing she doesn’t understand. 

“How did they explain away the fact that Julian destroyed the entire world in the last story, again?”

Jadzia sighs in exasperation. “I thought you said you read the program information.”

“I… skimmed over it,” she replies. “I thought since I’m only here to help Julian out he could just catch me up when we start.”

“The world being destroyed was just a psychological game Noah put Julian through to test him,” Jadzia explains. “To see what he’d do. Now he’s fled, and you and Julian have to catch him before he uses the information he extracted from Julian’s mind to take down Britain’s entire secret service operation.”

“Are you still a villain, then?”

Jadzia gives her a wink. “I’m sympathetic.”

“Right.”

“You don’t sound very enthused.”

Kira tries to lean back and feels the dress stretch tight over her middle, somehow hugging her even tighter than the militia uniform she usually wears. “You know holosuites aren’t my thing.”

“It means a lot to Julian that we all give it a go,” Jadzia points out. “And who knows, if you forget about having to be Major Kira Nerys for a while, you _might_ just have a good time.”

She returns Jadzia’s smile weakly and looks around the room. The apartment complex is pristine and full of curious antiquities, the view through the glass behind them a wide stretch of skyscrapers and colourful bright lights against the night sky. The holosuite world around them is paused, waiting for the story to begin. “Speaking of Julian,” she says, “do you think he’s planning on turning up anytime soon? We’re already almost fifteen minutes into our two-hour session. And you know how Quark is about punctuality when it comes to his holosuites. Julian’s never usually late.”

“No, but he _is_ easily distracted,” Jadzia says, reaching for her Starfleet badge where it lies abandoned on the coffee table. “Dax to Bashir. Julian, are you there?” Silence follows. Jadzia sighs. “Maybe there’s a medical emergency of some kind. If we don’t want to waste his money, we should probably start without him.”

And Kira had just started to get hopeful she might be freed from the obligation to participate. “Come on, if Julian’s not here-”

“Then that’s his problem. _I’m_ not missing out because he couldn’t keep track of the time. _Please,_ Nerys?”

Kira never could say no to Jadzia’s smile. Something about the wisdom of all those lives makes it irresistible, infectious. If she wasn’t a Starfleet officer, Jadzia could make an excellent diplomat. Everyone always likes Jadzia, and it’s not hard to see why. She’s exciting and charismatic and beautiful where others like Kira can be… standoffish. Tense. She remembers words for months, years ago now. _She’s so unpredictable and you’re so…_ Predictable, she’d finished for him. That was Kira Nerys. Predictable. And _not_ good at imagination.

“How would it work without Julian? Isn’t he the protagonist?”

Jadzia waves a hand dismissively. “Anastasia Komananov can fill his role easily, it won’t make a difference.”

Anastasia Komananov, that’s right. That’s who Kira has to be. A secret agent, a Soviet spy with the complicated accent that nationality entails. She practiced it for an hour before coming here to little success. It sounded ridiculous coming from her mouth, lacing the Bajoran words with a foreign style of speaking.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait a bit longer?” she asks.

“I’ll pay Julian back if he causes a fuss. Come on, I promise I’ll make it fun. Besides,” Jadzia adds, “I like it being just the two of us.”

So does Kira. She wonders whether she’s ever spent much time in a holosuite for _fun_ if it wasn’t with Jadzia. Jadzia is casual and all-knowing enough to convince Kira it’s not just all a pointless holoprojected diversion sometimes, even if only for a moment. “Fine.”

Jadzia gives a cry of victory and climbs over the sofa to pull Kira into a crushing hug – Prophets, Jadzia is _strong._ It’s the kind of thing people underestimate about her. Kira coughs and extracts herself from her friend’s steely embrace, face heating. She’s not sure how to deal with that kind of physical intimacy, coming from someone like Jadzia. Wincing at the uncomfortable fit of her shoes, she stands up and tries to straighten her dress. She’s going to regret this, she can already tell. 

“Dax to Bashir. Julian, you’re taking too long so we’re starting without you. Deal with it.” Again, Jadzia’s badge lies dead in her hand, no response coming either from its small silver form or the holosuite computer. 

Kira frowns. “I wonder what could’ve held him up.”

“Who cares?” Jadzia leaps over the coffee table to join her, more at ease in her unusual costume than Kira would know how to be. She twirls around and puts her hands over Kira’s eyes, blinding her. “Keep them closed,” she orders.

“Why?”

“Well, it’d be no fun if the hero found the villain right away, would it?”

With a sigh, she crosses her arms and nods, holding back the urge to open her eyes again when Jadzia’s hands fall away. 

“Computer,” Jadzia calls, sounding far off, “begin program from the ballroom scene onwards.”

The computer beeps and Kira stands there, obediently still and blind, as the world changes around her – warm air replaced by a cold breeze that raises goosebumps to the surface of her skin, light replaced with darkness. It smells like an odd mix of chemical exhaust and sweet-scented flowers, the distant sound of vehicles on Hong Kong streets long gone. Instead, she hears excited chatter and footsteps on pavements, elegant music flowing through the background. It does _feel_ real, will until she opens her eyes and sees the emptiness in the holographic characters’ eyes that she’s always hated. Their blank stares make her feel alone.

“Colonel,” someone says to her left, speaking in a crisp accent that reminds her of Julian’s. “Miss Komananov.”

She opens her eyes to see a pale face staring up at her from the open door of what Julian’s explained is an old Earth ‘car’ – shiny and black and reflecting her own disinterested expression back at her. The man is older, wearing a grey suit with his patterned tie slightly askew. 

Alright. She’s Anastasia Komananov. Simple. She’s already half-forgotten what the accent is supposed to sound like, but she swallows her embarrassment and does her best to capture it anyway. “Yes?”

The man holds out his hand in greeting and she shakes it hurriedly, trying to smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Colonel,” he says. His skin feels so warm, so realistic. But she can tell. “Are you working alone tonight?”

“Oh- er, yes,” she replies. 

He gives a cheery smile, taking a dark suitcase out from under his seat. She watches as the lid pops open at the press of his thumb, revealing an array of weapons and odd gadgets. A silver writing pen. A mechanical lighter with the letters _AK_ engraved in gold on the side. A small pistol she doesn’t have the faintest idea how she would use.

“Take your pick, miss,” the man – whose name she’s pretty sure she should know already – adds. She glances down at herself to see an unfortunate lack of pockets in the stupid dress. What had Jadzia said, again? Ballroom? If Anastasia Komananov is supposed to be going to a party, openly carrying a weapon in with her doesn’t seem like a good idea. She really should’ve paid more attention to the program information.

“Uh, thank you,” she mutters, picking out the only objects she can reasonably carry without a purse – a ruby broach that looks like it could be capable of poisoning someone and a pendant in the shape of a hummingbird, a tracking device. Ridiculous, really. How is she meant to take down international crime with this? She supposes Julian always finds a way. She will too.

“Good luck, Colonel,” the man tells her, shutting the case again and leaning back in his car seat. “Her Majesty’s prayers go with you.” Then he shuts the door, hidden behind black tinted glass, and the car drives away.

“Right.” She turns around to face the source of the voices and atmospheric instruments. A white mansion stands on the other side of the street, steps crowded with well-dressed partygoers. The ball, apparently. The dark road beneath her feet glistens with a sheen of recent rain. Other people are getting out of cars around her, making their ways towards the house. “My name is Anastasia,” she says under her breath in Komananov’s accent. “I am a… a philan-thro- _pist_.” No, bad idea. Too difficult to say. “I am in business.” Better. Simple. And no one ever wants to ask follow-up questions to _that._

She struggles across the road and up the steps, ignoring the other affluent attendees. She notices some of them staring at _her_ and ignores that too, feeling determined to get this mystery mission over and done with so she can have a drink in Quark’s and go home. With any luck, Jadzia will let her win easily. Knowing her friend, though… Suffice to say, Jadzia is renowned for her competitive side. 

The front doors to the mansion are wide open, leading into a huge, glittering entrance room of crystal chandeliers, sweeping staircases and waiters in tuxedos hovering around offering assistance. She’s glad to be out of the cold, but aside from that, the inside of the house is just loud and overly bright. How does Julian find this so exciting? And why did she let Jadzia talk her into taking his place?

“Excuse me, miss.”

Jumping at the sound of a voice so close to her ear, she has to grab a nearby pillar to keep herself upright. Her impulse is to reach for the broach, but then, Noah’s men wouldn’t attack her in a crowd of people. She looks nervously at the waiter who just addressed her. If Jadzia’s watching this somehow, she’s going to be humiliated. Her mind just keeps flitting back to work, to the war always looming on the horizon, to the world outside the holosuite. “Er, hello.”

“Miss Komananov, there is someone who wishes to speak with you,” the young man tells her, apparently oblivious to her odd behaviour. His accent isn’t like Ana’s or Julian’s – it’s something else altogether she can’t recognise.

“Oh, of course,” she replies, tugging her dress down to straighten it. The plot of the holosuite program seems to have caught up with her. “Take me to them.”

The waiter nods and hurries off through the main doors before them, into the thick of the crowd. Kira has to half-run to keep up with him, compulsively apologising to every hologram person she bumps into as she forces her way into the main ballroom. She wishes Jadzia could be with her now, instead of off somewhere acting villainous and pulling strings behind the scenes. She misses her in this swarm of fake strangers, misses feeling like she’s close to something real. 

Before her, the crowd parts to reveal a circular open bar in the centre of the room, staffed by men in dark suits with silver pins on their lapels. Strangely – _intentionally,_ no doubt _–_ the stools around the bar are all empty except for one. A slim woman in a bright red dress perches there, smoking a cigarette. Kira rolls her eyes. _Bashir girls._ They’re everywhere, like an infestation of Cardassian voles. This one is blonde and pretty and gives Kira a very suggestive look as she approaches, lips parted. Great. She thought the program might change in Julian's absence to save her from this. Thanking the waiter who brought her, she takes a seat beside the woman and tries to return her smile.

“Good evening,” the woman says, “my name is Kitty West.” She pronounces Kitty as _Kee-ty,_ like Anastasia Komananov would. “I’ve been waiting for you, MissKomananov.” Again, miss like _mees._ Kira thinks she’s found her replacement for pretty side-piece assistant to the hero. It’s a shame there’s not much this Kitty West can do for her. Kira appreciates that Kitty’s good-looking and probably plot-relevant, but she’s still not real. She’d much rather the woman at the bar was Jadzia – well, Honey Bare – somehow on her side so they could play the game together. 

“Have you?” She does her best to sound excited about it, to meagre results.

“Yes. You see, I knew you would be here.”

“You did?”

Kitty nods. “My… my husband, he speaks of you often. He said you were coming.”

Prophets, there’s always a husband, isn’t there? She can already see where this is going. “Your husband, he wouldn’t _happen_ to be Doctor Noah, would he?” It doesn’t matter that there’s not a lick of sense or logic to it – the way Kitty lowers her eyes and leans into the bar reveals that Kira is right. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“He is not here,” Kitty answers, seeming to draw into herself a little. “Even if he was… he does not leave his basement, these days. And only two keys exist that I know of. He has one, I have the other.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d consider giving me that key, Kitty?”

“I… cannot.”

So _now_ what is she supposed to do? Kitty’s clearly waiting for her to say something, the program by extension demanding she make a move.

“Jadzia, if you can hear me right now, I am _not_ having fun,” she mutters under her breath. 

Kitty snaps to attention. “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kira sighs, reaching for the broach pinned to the front of her dress. Kitty doesn’t even notice her unpinning the jewel and holding it in her palm as she extends her hand to meet Kitty’s neck, just below her ear. It’s a touch that could be construed as affectionate if it didn’t come with the sharp press of metal against Kitty’s skin. The woman freezes, looking at Kira with fearful eyes.

“Ana, what are you doing?”

“Listen carefully,” she tells Kitty in a deadpan tone, “because I’m only going to say it once. This broach I have pressed against your neck right now is imbued with enough poison to kill everyone in this entire room. So you’re going to give me that key, Kitty, or I’ll stab you right this second. You won’t even last a minute, but I’ll be long gone before anyone realises what’s happened. Do you understand?” From Kitty’s expression of mute shock and horror, it’s probably not what she was meant to say. But she doesn’t have the patience to try to charm it out of Kitty right now, not when she can get her way just as easily with a threat. She wants to find Jadzia so they can complete this chapter of the story and get out of here.

There’s a soft click as Kitty sets the key – old-fashioned and silver – on the glass top of the bar.

Kira smiles. “Thank you. If you can direct me towards the door?”

“Down the stairs,” Kitty answers, “in the far corner of the hall. You know, Ana, you are… nothing like I imagined.”

“Yes, I get that a lot.” She retracts her hand and Kitty’s slim frame sinks down in relief. Key, acquired. Door, at the end of the hall, down the stairs. The end of this personal hell, closer than before. 

She doesn’t bother to say goodbye before she walks away, ignoring pointed stares and making right for the shadowy corner Kitty directed her towards. This is all so ridiculous. She knows the first words coming out of her mouth when she finds Jadzia – _see? I gave it a go, and it’s awful. I’m terrible at this and I ruin it for everyone else. Can we please leave now?_ She tried to learn how to have an imagination, mainly for Jadzia’s sake, but it doesn’t seem to work for her. Imagination was beaten out of her too long ago.

It’s not hard to find the dark staircase she’s searching for, with the holoprogram constantly adjusting to show her the way. People helpfully step aside to open up a path through the swimming shoal of blank-slate individuals, humans reduced to basic stereotypes who all fall back to the same speech patterns when probed beyond a simple _hello._ Kira would much rather sit in Quark’s if she wanted to people-watch. The staircase itself is unlit and a struggle in her heels, but when she reaches the bottom, the key she took from Kitty fits the lock in the heavy door with no trouble. 

“Ana, wait!”

She freezes with her hand against the icy metal of the basement door, turning towards the light at the top of the stairs. Kitty stands there, silhouetted against the glow of the ballroom in all the appeal of her perfect, put-together form. 

“What?” Kira asks, forgetting about Ana’s accent.

“If you go in there,” Kitty warns, “she will kill you.” She seems too afraid to take more than a single step down the stairs. 

_“She_ will? What about Doctor Noah?”

“He is not here – I told you!” Kitty replies. “But _she_ is. The other one. She killed the last of your comrades who came, too. She is not all of what she looks!”

Kira has a feeling she knows who Kitty’s talking about. Who else could it be? She’s pretty sure there’s never been more than three women in one of these stories – Anastasia Komananov, Kitty West…

“Honey Bare,” she mutters. “Thanks for letting me know.”

_Finally._

She doesn’t bother to stop the door from slamming behind her as she goes, thoroughly done with the covert part of being a spy. If Jadzia – well, Honey Bare – wants to kill her, she’s welcome to try. Jadzia might’ve trained with Klingons, but Kira can probably take her. Probably. It may at least be fun to try.

The basement entrance opens into a compact, circular room, filled with suspicious flashing lights and display screens. It’s oddly reminiscent of Ops, in a way – except for the giant open tank built into the middle of the floor space. The fish inside it are huge and swirl around in constant circles, their deep grey fins cutting through the surface every now and then. Kira watches them transfixed for a few moments, entranced by their twisting, graceful movements in the water. The creatures’ mouths are stuck in permanent upside-down smiles, baring their teeth. Some of them look twice as big as people. Like they could be capable of tearing someone apart.

“Admiring the sharks?”

Kira almost falls over. 

“They _are_ rather beautiful, aren’t they?” Jadzia remarks softly as she descends the steps at the far end of the room, on the other side of the infested pool. Sharks. She’s sure she’s heard them mentioned in a storybook Keiko gave her to read to Molly the one time Kira tried babysitting. “Hungry, too.”

Something about Jadzia is oddly breathtaking. It’s not that she’s dressed any different – same silk shirt, same slim-fitting pants, same sensible heels. It's the smile. Kira knows Jadzia’s smiles, has paid a lot of attention to them over the years. It would be impossible not to. They’re her most striking feature, the thing she kills people dead with from the far side of the room in Quark’s, and they’re always… appealing. Not that this one isn’t, it’s just a bit more intimidating than usual. Less casual and friendly. Kira supposes that’s how a villain ought to smile, but it’s still strange to see it on Jadzia’s familiar face.

Jadzia is halfway around the circular tank before Kira remembers they’re in a game and she’s supposed to speak, to speak as _Ana,_ not Nerys. She tries to imagine what Julian would say – something quippy and suave-sounding so long as you don’t listen too hard. A good one-liner. She doesn’t have any. 

“Hello, Honey,” she says, fighting to keep Ana’s accent steady. Heat rises to her cheeks. _Honey._ That came across… loaded. She knows it’s an affectionate term in Federation standard. This stupid holosuite program and the stupid names it gives all the characters are the ones to blame. And Jadzia, a little bit, for refusing to change it when she could’ve. How does Julian take any of it seriously? How does _Jadzia?_

“Hello, _Anastasia,”_ Honey replies. Her laugh is almost chilling. Kira begins to wish she'd brought the gun after all. “I must say you’re bolder than I was expecting. What _are_ they teaching you in the _komitet_ these days?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, not untruthfully. “I… did not pay much attention.”

Jadzia pauses by the edge of the shark-infested waters several metres away, hands held behind her back. That’s a Jadzia thing, not a Honey one. Kira notices her doing it all the time in the real world. 

What’s she meant to be doing here again? Stopping Noah before he takes down Julian’s secret service, right. But Noah isn’t here. So maybe she needs to convince Jadzia to tell her where Noah is, maybe if Honey Bare really _is_ sympathetic, she might even decide to help Anastasia instead. One can only hope. 

Jadzia waves at something beyond Kira, a casual gesture. “Gentlemen, if you please.”

A hand grabs Kira’s wrist before she’s even half turned-around – an iron grip she can’t shake off, nearly painful. Someone grabs her by the other shoulder. She struggles against the hold of the two cronies as hard as she can, trying to twist out of the men’s hold. They don’t do anything to hurt her, exactly, prevented by the holosuite safety controls, but it’s impossible to get away, impossible to break free.

“Let go of me!” she snarls, deciding to play along for now. Jadzia, at least, looks like she’s having a good time. “Let go!” 

Crossing the gap between them, Jadzia reaches into her pants pocket and removes a pair of plain metal handcuffs. Kira stares in disbelief as Jadzia ushers aside one of the criminal sidekicks – a huge, hulking man with teeth that shine in silver metal when he smiles – to bind Kira’s wrists behind her back, the cuffs digging into her skin. She gets the sense they’re real, not just holoprojections, which means Jadzia was planning this from the start. Of course she was. She can’t be bothered to keep fighting when Jadzia takes her in hand, rolling her eyes and resigning herself to the fate of being captured. There’ll be a way out. There always is.

“You can go, thank you,” Jadzia tells the cronies once Kira is properly restrained, Anastasia Komananov conquered by metal handcuffs and her own lack of preparation for the task at hand. She can’t see Jadzia’s face anymore, but she can hear the bright and wicked smile on her face in her tone.

“Oh Ana,” Jadzia sighs, speaking as Honey in her low, rather dazed manner. “You must’ve been _very_ desperate to see me. You made it so easy!” The door slams as the cronies leave. Jadzia’s sweet laugh echoes through the room. 

“Only desperate to get my hands on you so I can kill you,” she mutters, straining to turn around to look Jadzia in the eyes. It’s frustrating talking to someone with your back to them, being unable to read their expression. Particularly with Jadzia, who holds so much of her being in her smiles, her eyes.

“Now, there’s no need to be so _violent_ about it,”Honey says, keeping Kira in place with her strong hold. There’s a faint clicking noise and she feels something cold and metallic press into her side, a flash of silver she can only see out of the corner of her eye. Is Jadzia holding a _gun_ to her?

“There’s every need,” she snaps back, “when I’m dealing with- with people like you!”

“My, you’re feisty, aren’t you? I can see why Doctor Noah told me to be careful when it came to you.” Jadzia gives her a sharp jab with the gun, pushing her forward towards the pool of sharks. The creatures seem to heighten in fury as she stumbles closer in her stupid shoes, cutting through the surface with white fangs glistening in the harsh light of the underground laboratory. A particularly large one breaks the choppy waves to splash water over the side, droplets flicking onto Kira’s skin. Even though she knows it’s not at all real, she still feels a jolt of anxiety at the creature’s appearance. Is this what Noah does with his enemies? Feed them to starved sharks?

“I hope you don’t plan on throwing me in there,” she says. She’s not sure what would be next if Jadzia did. She has to find a way out of the handcuffs – cause some kind of distraction, trick or bully Honey Bare into revealing where Doctor Noah has gone. A brief attempt to wrestle her way out of the manacles only makes Jadzia grab hold again and fix them tighter.

“Come on, Ana, don’t fight it,” Honey warns her. Another step towards the tank of sharks. The waters are frothing. 

_“Don’t,”_ Kira repeats, struggling again. One good push from Jadzia now would send her right over the side, into the mouths of the monsters. Jadzia knows that. So what in the world is she supposed to do? 

One of Honey’s free hand leaves her wrists to curl around her shoulder. The gesture would be friendly under any other circumstances, but just now it feels dangerous. Maybe because she still can’t see Jadzia. Can only feel her, close with the gun pressed into Kira’s side, encroaching on her bubble of personal space. On a general basis, Kira is not a hugger. She can’t remember being there being this little space between her and Jadzia many times before, except in occasional instances of Jadzia’s typical crushing embraces. Embarrassed by her own shortness of breath, she tries to shove down her uncertainty and remember the game. Anastasia Komananov never loses her mask of cool control.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Honey challenges.

Kira’s mind races for the words that’ll get her out of this situation. She’s sure there must be some obvious line that anyone who knows anything about _Julian Bashir, Secret Agent_ would know to say. “Jadzia-” she breaks out suddenly, accent slipping. “I- I mean-”

“Who’s Jadzia?” Honey is so close that her words came as a breath of hot air against Kira’s neck. 

Shivering, she glances around, trying to find the convenient plot device designed to help her escape this situation. What would Julian Bashir, secret agent, do just now? She cranes her neck and jumps a little at how close her nose comes to brushing Jadzia’s own. No- Honey Bare’s. Unlike Kira, Jadzia can play a character. This is just a game to her.

“She’s- no one,” Kira replies after a long pause. Her voice is shaky, almost breathless. Julian is always so confident when he plays this role, but standing there, looking into Honey Bare’s bright blue, too familiar eyes, she feels more nervous than she did when the Klingon fleet attacked DS9. What _would_ Julian Bashir, secret agent, do? She knows. And from the intensity of Jadzia’s gaze, she seems to know too. _Just a game,_ she reminds herself. Kira Nerys isn’t meant to exist here. She’s Anastasia Komananov, KGB, and Ana isn’t like Kira at all. She wouldn’t be afraid now. 

“She doesn’t matter now,” Kira says, turning more to face Jadzia and wishing her hands were free. “You’re- you’re the only one who matters.” 

Jadzia raises an eyebrow, leaning in just a fraction of a centimetre. So close. _Not Jadzia, Honey Bare. Not Nerys, Ana._

She takes a deep breath. “I… don’t want to fight you anymore, Honey. I don’t care about your organisation or my government or anyone else. But I know I won’t fight you anymore.” It doesn’t sound very convincing. She dares to take an uncertain step into Jadzia’s personal space, leaving so little room that they’re essentially touching. The gun in Jadzia’s hand is a cold press of metal against her torso. 

“What are you proposing?” Jadzia asks, eyes darting down in a direction that seems very much to Kira like Jadzia is looking at her lips. She licks them nervously, too aware of how dry her mouth feels, how hard her heart is beating. Jadzia must be able to hear it. She’s being ridiculous. None of this is real. Julian doesn’t think anything of it when one of his _Bashir girls_ throws themselves all over him, he stays cool and calm and in control. Physically, Jadzia may be more real than those computerised creations, but the character she plays isn’t. Honey Bare is the villain, and as Kira’s learned from the few times she’s watched Julian play the lead role in these stories, the best way to disarm that threat is often with… charm.

“We should… work together,” she says. “We have the same ideals, after all. It doesn’t make sense for us to be enemies. Think of everything we could achieve if we stopped…”

“Trying to kill each other?” Jadzia – _Honey –_ offers helpfully, free hand reaching up to cup Kira’s chin, to tilt it upwards so their eyes meet again. Something pinches in Kira’s chest, cutting off air from her lungs. 

“Yes,” she agrees. “Yes. That.” 

“Well,” Jadzia murmurs, a soft naivety beginning to form over her features again, “if you _really_ mean it-”

“I do!” Kira interrupts, too quickly. Any last dregs of that awful accent have disappeared, leaving her sounding like Kira Nerys again. _Damn it, Ana. Keep it together._ Colonel Komananov of Earth’s KGB would never be so desperate – she’s supposed to float through the story, unaffected. “I really do mean it.” She inches closer. “I think you’re special, Honey. You’re not like… the others. I cannot win without you. I _need_ you.”

Jadzia’s ocean-blue eyes light up. “You do?”

Despite the fact that her hands are still cuffed behind her back and two steps behind her is the instant death of Anastasia Komananov in the form of a tank of hungry sharks, she feels a flicker of power fall back in her direction. Honey Bare – or is it Jadzia, or both of them? – sounds so hopeful, like Ana’s words are the essence of her dreams. 

“I would rather _die,”_ Kira says emphatically, “than live another day without you at my side.” She turns her face, and it all seems so simple. Honey is right there, control slipping from her grasp in the face of Ana’s persuasion. Prophets, she shouldn’t be doing this. Jadzia is her best friend, it’s only going to make things strange between them, even if they’re just playing the characters of Honey and Anastasia. What happens when the program ends and they’re Jadzia and Nerys again? What happens tomorrow in the weekly command team meeting when they have to sit down next to each other and be Commander Dax and Major Kira, nothing more?

“Ana,” Honey says, dragging her back to the present. “Stop overthinking it. My answer is _yes.”_

Distracted, Kira jumps at being addressed. “Yes to what?” she asks. It’s confusing – she can’t tell what’s Jadzia and what’s Honey, what’s Nerys and what’s Ana. The lines are too blurred. This is why she hates holosuites. This is why she _hates_ imagination. 

“Yes to us.” Kira stares blankly, dumbfounded. “But,” Honey continues, “I do have a question.”

“…Which is?” It’s impossible to drag her eyes away.

Honey’s fingers trail down her cheek. “How do I know that I can trust you?”

Kira’s hands are sweaty where they’re pressed together in prayer behind her back, bound by cool metal. She’s still too aware of the gun held against her torso. If this were real, and Honey pulled the trigger, Anastasia would be dead within seconds, blood dripping into the waters before them to incense the sharks. What would Julian Bashir, secret agent, do? What would Anastasia Komananov, KGB, do? What is _she_ supposedto do? She knows what Major Kira Nerys would go with – it’d be a _less subtle_ approach involving kicks and a sharp jab from her shoulder, a method that could easily end in a bullet wound through the chest. Kira, Komananov, it hardly matters. She’s meant to be a secret agent of Earth’s 20th century trying to disarm her enemy. As alien as it feels, there’s only one… _sensible_ option.

She leans forward, trying to calm her racing heart, trying to regain Ana’s thick accent. “You cannot.” Honey stands still, fingers frozen on Ana’s cheek as she closes the last few centimetres of distance between them. Kira ignores the part of her mind screaming _what are you doing, this is insane, this is Jadzia we’re talking about._ This is what Jadzia wants, right? This is all part of the story, the game?

It’s an awkward angle without having the use of her hands to guide Honey’s face towards her own – she has to crane her neck because Honey is taller than Ana is, even with the added height of Ana’s heels. Jadzia doesn’t make it any easier, either, she’s a statue of grace who watches silently as Kira – as _Ana –_ breaks the final barrier. The first kiss is all Ana’s doing, gently pressing her lips to Honey’s in a simple gesture of trust. More symbolic than passionate. Kira’s heart feels like it’s falling down into a bottomless pit, dropping through empty space, endlessly. She seems to have forgotten how to breathe. 

“Ana,” Honey murmurs.

Kira wonders whether she read everything all wrong, messed up the story. Whether she just ruined her friendship with Jadzia forever with a stupid kiss she can never take back. It _was_ an awful idea. She should’ve just gone with the use-her-shoulder-as-a-weapon plan. She’s pretty sure Jadzia wouldn’t have actually shot her.

There’s a faint splash. She glances down to see a small silver object – the pistol – sink below the clear surface of the water down into its shark-infested depths. Both of Honey’s hands come up to clasp Ana’s face, one on either side. Now she’s the one who’s frozen, too unsure to move. 

“Honey?”

“It’s not going to be easy, you know,” Honey warns. “Doctor Noah-”

“He doesn’t matter,” Kira says, cutting her off. “Who cares about Noah? You _belong_ at my side.” That’s it, surely. She’s convinced the sympathetic villainous sidekick to join her team – now they can take down Noah together, complete this chapter of the story even without the presence of special agent Julian Bashir of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. She doesn’t know much about the character of Honey Bare, but she seems naïve by nature. Trusting. Unless Jadzia is playing it a different way, this should be enough.

“Oh Ana,” Honey sighs, and Kira feels herself leaning closer again, apprehensive, “I thought you’d never ask.” Honey pulls Ana in gently, giving her every chance to interrupt or turn away. She doesn’t. Kira isn’t sure whether she’s still supposed to _be_ Ana, whether this is different somehow. Jadzia wouldn’t do this if she didn’t want to. The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, stirring a sharp anxiety deep in her chest. _Does_ Jadzia want this? Did she like it that Kira kissed her? Does she want-

“You’re thinking too much again.”

Kira looks up. Blue eyes, shining with some emotion she’s not sure she’s seen there before, stare back. “What… what should I be doing instead?”

Honey smiles. “This.” 

It’s different, this time. It’s a _real_ kiss, one that implies some kind of meaning instead of just being a simple action, and for a moment she’s so shocked she doesn’t know what to do. Jadzia. Kissing _her._ Teasing her into opening her mouth, pulling her body closer as the sound of the music in the ballroom above swells louder thanit should be this far underground, like a dramatic overture. Jadzia’s reputation makes more sense than it ever has. She _is_ really good at this. Kira can’t help laughing into it, a bubble-up of nervous energy and confusion as Jadzia adjusts the angle to kiss her deeper, tugs her away from the edge of the shark-swarmed pool towards the basement wall.

Skin on fire, Kira breaks away to breathe. She feels dizzy. Jadzia doesn’t let up – she kisses along Kira’s jaw in the interim, runs a hand through her hair. “Ana, darling,”Jadzia murmurs, dragging up even more disorientation. She wants to touch Jadzia too, but her wrists are still bound behind her by the manacles.

“Honey,” she manages, though with no pretence of Russian nationality this time, “if we’re on the same side, surely the… the handcuffs aren't necessary.”

Jadzia looks up and gives her a slightly evil smile. “Agent Komananov doesn’t like to be caged?”

 _“No,”_ she insists. As dazed as she is, she can hear a voice very clearly inside her head saying _this must be a dream, so don’t waste it, you need Jadzia, need more of Jadzia now before the chance is gone._ It’s ridiculous and a terrible idea and doesn’t even make much sense because Jadzia is her _friend,_ not… not someone she would want to kiss or _should_ want to kiss. But she does. And Jadzia must too. She must.

“Fine,” Jadzia sighs, spinning them around to push Kira up against the wall. Instead of the threatening press of a gun or the danger of falling into a tank of ravenous beasts, it’s a cool, hard barrier of metal, and Kira forgets how to breathe for another few tense moments. Trapped there, she’s unable to drag her gaze away from Jadzia’s impossibly blue eyes, unable to think coherent thoughts. She _has_ to be hallucinating.

“Well, go on,” Jadzia prompts. “Turn around. Unless you’d rather _stay_ in chains.”

“I’d- rather not,” she replies, but can’t find the co-ordination move.

Rolling her eyes, Jadzia grabs Kira’s shoulder and does the turning for her, a gentle shove pressing her face-first against the wall instead. The metal is icy against her burning cheek. All she can do is stand there, caught between Jadzia and the wall as Jadzia fiddles with the handcuffs. It’s oddly like earlier, by the tank of sharks, except this time Kira has to admit she’s more excited than afraid. The thrill is mystifying, makes it so hard to be sure of anything, but all she wants is to keep chasing it, keep demanding Jadzia show her more. She usually hates feeling this little control over herself, her emotions. This is different. This is _Jadzia._ Somehow, this is _Jadzia_ she’s talking about.

 _“Nerys.”_ It’s barely audible, a whisper against her ear. _Her_ name. Not Anastasia’s, not Major Kira’s. _Hers._

“Jadzia.”

There’s a click as the handcuffs come away, freeing Kira’s wrists _finally._ She turns back around with more confidence than she had before, clutching Jadzia’s face between her hands and pulling her down into a kiss, because apparently that’s something she can _do_ now. She – Kira Nerys – can kiss Jadzia Dax. It’s not just the story, can’t possibly be now, because Jadzia wouldn’t toy with anyone like that. The only answer is that Jadzia, for some bizarre and inexplicable reason, wants to be doing this. 

“Wait,” she breathes, turning her cheek. “Is that- footsteps?”

“Hm,” Jadzia mutters. “Computer, freeze program.”

The footsteps stop. Everything stops – the whirr of machinery, the sloshing water, the sound of music echoing from the holoprogram ballroom above. It’s silent but for Kira’s laboured breathing and the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. The game is paused. The woman before her isn’t. _Her_ eyes are shining even brighter.

“You know, I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” Jadzia says. Her hand trails down Kira’ neck, down the open front of Anastasia Komananov’s impractically gorgeous dress. The touch is so feather-light that Kira can’t help shivering, leaning into the sensation. 

“I think- I think I’ve thought about it too,” she admits, struggling for air. How can Jadzia be so calm, so succinct? Her world feels like it’s spinning. It isn’t a lie – she _has_ thought about it, surely everyone who’s met Jadzia Dax has? Thought about how beautiful Jadzia is, how much they’re entranced by her addictive smile, how much they want to be _closer_ to her, by any means necessary. Surely everyone dreams about Jadzia at least once after they meet her, catches themselves staring at the way her Starfleet uniform hugs her slim waist and how she’s so tall and the largest personality in the room but never intimidating, never scary. She makes you feel like she’s your best friend from the moment she opens her mouth, even if you’re determined not to like her, even if you want to think _Federation, Starfleet, not like me._

Jadzia smiles now, eyes glittering with that indescribable shine Kira is ever in awe of. “You can’t _possibly_ imagine how happy it makes me to hear that, Nerys.” 

“I always thought it,” Kira says, surprising herself with her words. “Ever since we first met.” Jadzia lowers her head to kiss down Kira’s throat, insisting on making it near impossible for her to speak with eloquence. She’s never been like this with anyone else, never been so overwhelmed. “But you-” She breaks off, breathing heavily. “You never seemed interested.”

Jadzia pauses, pressing her a little harder into the wall. “I didn’t think _you_ were interested… in people like me.”

“If you mean Starfleet, then-”

“I mean _women.”_

“Oh.” Kira frowns. “Oh. Well I- I’m not sure I ever thought about it before.” Jadzia. A woman. Who makes her feel so different to anyone she’s known before – Kira isn’t complacent in Jadzia’s arms, she’s alive. “Why didn’t we do this before?”

“I have no idea,” Jadzia replies, laughing. “You know Julian’s going to take the credit for this one.”

Kira groans at the prospect and takes hold of Jadzia’s shirt front to pull her back in, kissing her again, _again._ The item of clothing is more delicate than she was expecting. Or maybe she just doesn’t know her own strength. The top three buttons clatter to the floor, thin thread accidentally broken in her attempts to get closer.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps. 

Jadzia just laughs again.

It’s been so long since she kissed anybody like this – hot and desperate, desirous for more, instead of a perfunctory act she feels like she’s doing more out of politeness than actual enjoyment. She reaches up behind Jadzia’s head to tug the tie out of her hair, letting the long brown waves fall free about their owner’s shoulders. It gives her something to hold onto, to drag Jadzia further in by, a tether.

“You should let your hair out more often,” Kira tells her, breaking away for a moment to speak, to breathe.

“If you’d like me to.” Jadzia curls a finger around Kira’s silver necklace, twisting and pulling on the delicate chain. “But I expect to get something in return.”

“Just name it.”

Jadzia smiles in a way that’s almost devious, pretending to examine the hummingbird design of the pendant. _“You_ have to wear this dress,” she says. “At _least_ once a week.” While Kira’s distracted, her left arm sneaks around to circle about Kira and pull her in closer. Not quite proprietary but… protective. Reassuring. Jadzia’s cool palm presses against the bare part of her lower back, fingers tracing circles on the hot skin.

Kira averts her gaze, staring hard at the distant wall beyond Jadzia’s shoulder. She can’t believe she’s doing this. Throwing herself all over someone, all over _Jadzia._ In a _holosuite._ She can too easily imagine the pointed smiles of their other friends if they found out, perfectly pictures the absolute _delight_ on Julian’s face like he had anything to do with it. Which he sort of did, to be fair. If he’d shown up today, none of this would’ve happened.

“When I said I hadn’t thought about it before,” Kira begins, trying to ignore the heat growing everywhere Jadzia touches her and everywhere she doesn’t that Kira really wishes she _would,_ “what I meant to say was… I haven’t- I’ve only ever gone out with… men. Before now.”

“That’s okay,” Jadzia says. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No! No, I mean- I just don’t know how it’s different.”

Jadzia drops the necklace and lifts her hand to brush a loose curl of red hair from Kira’s eyes – a tender gesture. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime,” she murmurs. “But I’m _not_ doing it here.”

“No?” Kira can’t help sounding disappointed. She’s worried that when they leave the holosuite this is all going to disappear, that this was something that could only exist between the Komananov and Honey Bare versions of themselves. Doomed to flicker and die the moment they re-enter the real world.

“No,” Jadzia confirms. “But we can go over what we’ve learned so far, if you want.”

Embarrassed, she gives a small nod. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Jadzia’s smile as she leans back in, delighted and knowing and telling and honest all at once, is enough to metaphorically melt Kira’s heart. It’s so stupid, to feel so much for one smile. Jadzia kisses her gently, holding her back so all the touches are teasing, leaving Kira desperate for more. The silence isn’t so terrifying anymore – it’s natural. Peaceful. A rare escape from the constant roar of life on Deep Space 9 that tucks Kira and Jadzia away in the fictional world of the holosuite, where Kira is having a _lot_ of fun, for once. Jadzia presses against her, a warm wall defending her from what lies beyond. She feels silly. She feels awkward and still a bit strange about kissing one of her best friends, in a _holosuite,_ too, but she also can’t imagine what else she’d rather be doing.

 _Boom._ Kira jumps, breaking off the kiss and looking around for the source of the sound. “Computer… freeze program?”

 _“The program is already paused,”_ the computer replies.

“I don’t think that was the holosuite,” Jadzia says, raising her eyes. Which can only mean-

“Prophets!” Kira curses. Extracting herself from Jadzia’s hold, she does her best to straighten her dress and hair before calling for the exit. Her mind runs through a million possibilities – the Cardassians, the Klingons, the Dominion. The door appears, opening onto a Quark’s submerged in darkness but for the pulsing red glow of an alert light. She grabs Jadzia’s hand and pulls her out of the holosuite, back into reality. 

“Alright, we’re clear!” someone yells. The main lights flicker on and Kira squints against the glare, making out swarming silhouettes down on the lower level of the bar. 

“Okay gather round, we need to make sure everyone’s accounted for!”

“Where’s Rom? Is my brother okay?” Quark’s voice cuts across the commotion like a shark’s fin through water. 

“Yes, he’s with his engineering team, he’s fine,” comes a reply.

Kira leaps down the stairs, clutching the handrail to stop herself from tumbling head over heels in her impractical shoes. She grabs the first Bajoran crewmember she sees, one of the nurses. 

“What’s going on?” she demands. “Is everything-”

“Jadzia! Nerys!” She whirls around towards the entrance, spotting Julian right away as he pushes through the evening Quark’s crowd towards them. He’s only half-dressed, missing the bow tie and suit jacket of his secret agent clothes. “Where have you _been?”_ he asks. “We couldn’t get a hold of you and we thought-”

“Julian,” Jadzia says, interrupting him, “would you mind explaining what’s going on here? We’ve been in the holosuite, we left when we heard the explosion.”

Julian stares at them open-mouthed. “You mean you have _no_ idea?”

“You didn’t respond when Jadzia tried to contact you,” Kira points out. 

“I _couldn’t,”_ he explains. “We were on automatic lockdown, half the communications weren’t working! There was a bomb on the Promenade!”

Kira blinks disbelievingly. “A _bomb?”_

“I can’t believe you missed all this,” he says. “Yes, there was a bomb on the Promenade, and we couldn’t beam it out because of the way it’d been rigged to explode so the only option was to create a containment field around it and then explode it _inside,_ and the whole station was on lockdown and everyone kept saying oh does anyone _happen_ to know where Major Kira and Commander Dax have gone? And we were starting to think you’d been taken hostage or something, because the internal sensors were shut down and no one we could reach reported you being present, so-”

“Alright, alright,” Jadzia says, stopping him before he talks on for an hour. “We’re fine. We didn’t have the slightest idea about the bomb – the holosuite computer wasn’t interrupted by the lockdown at all. I’m sure that’s a nice addition of Quark’s to make sure he doesn’t risk demand for a refund even during an emergency.”

He frowns. “What were you doing in there?”

“Playing through _Julian Bashir, Secret Agent._ You didn’t show up, so we started without you.”

“We didn’t uh- get very far,” Kira says quickly, before he can get too indignant. “I don’t think Anastasia Komananov is as cut out for it as Julian Bashir is.”

But Julian already seems distracted, staring at Jadzia with curiosity. “Jadzia, what happenedto your shirt?”

“Oh.” Jadzia looks down to the place where the top few buttons were torn off, leaving her shirt front lying half-open. Kira had forgotten she’d done that. “It got torn. I’ll ask Garak to fix it.”

Julian glances between them in confusion but is prevented from saying anything else by a Dabo girl, who calls him over to help with a fainting patron. He gives them one last long look of uncertainty before turning away.

Jadzia covers her mouth, struggling to stifle a laugh.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Kira mutters. “I mean, can you _believe_ it?” she says, shaking her head. “The whole station could’ve been blown to pieces and we would’ve just been in the holosuite…” She trails off, cheeks burning again. Prophets, she hopes Benjamin will be willing to take a _vague_ answer as to what exactly two of his commanding officers were doing while the station was in a state of crisis. 

“Aw, come on,” Jadzia replies, snaking an arm around her middle and offering a winning smile. “You’re not going to tell me you didn’t have any fun.”

Kira can’t avoid the small smile that crosses her own face as they pass through the chaos towards the door, where the distinct smell of smoke and burning plastic seems to be forming. “Oh, I had fun. Next time, though, I think we should do it somewhere where the comm systems are more likely to be working, just in case someone _else_ decides setting a bomb off on the Promenade might be a good idea.”

“Next time?” Jadzia quirks an eyebrow. 

_“If_ that’s what you want, _Honey.”_

“Ana, I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♡


End file.
